


Button Eyes

by call_me_steve



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Coraline (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coraline AU, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian basically replaces Coraline, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, There's more characters to be added as we go, When Grayson says that the family is going on vacation, and then says that there's no capes allowed, damian wayne will need a hug, later :)), not yet :)), so you get caught up in some shit because what else are you gonna do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-07 12:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve
Summary: Dick says that the family needs to get away from the city, so Bruce has Damian and Tim pack up a bag. The four of them leave Gotham to Red Hood and the girls and head out to the country side, where they find themselves at an apartment building called the Pink Palace.Damian's goes with them, praying for a peaceful summer of colorful canvases and paint smears all over his arms. What he gets is a new mystery to solve and a group of people to save.This isn't what he asked for. Not even close.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 98





	1. Welcome to Pink Palace

**Author's Note:**

> So 'i am we' is my main fic at the moment and this is going to be a little bit of a side burner one. But! Coraline is my favorite movie and all this means is that the chapter length won't be consistent. The next chapter is only half the length of this one, so. 
> 
> BUT I'M SUPER EXCITED FOR THIS THANK YOU
> 
> tumblr: [potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)

Grayson decides that the family needs to get away from the city. Father chooses on something far out in the country, an apartment by the name of the _ Pink Palace. _

“They’ve divided the house up into three sections,” Grayson explains the night that he and Father go over their vacation plans. “The attic part belongs to some old circus dude” -he visibly bounces on his heels at that, beaming wide- “and the basement belongs to two older ladies. They all stay there over the summer, and this year, we’ll be staying in the main part of the house. It’s two stories- we’ll each get our bedroom and we’ll have to bring our own furniture.” 

Drake bitches about it- especially when Grayson gets around to the fact that there won’t be any wifi or service down there. Damian doesn’t particularly mind the fact. He’s not dependent on electronics and staring at a screen for too long gives him a headache. It’s something he’s learned to swallow down so he can use the computers down in the Batcave, but it doesn’t mean he willingly uses his phone all the time like Drake does. That, and who needs _ technology _ when Damian’s going to have all of Mother Nature outside his door? Animals and beautiful, breathtaking sights galore- He’s so _ glad _ Grayson agreed to get him a new sketchbook before they leave next week. 

“I don’t want you and Bruce to be working on cases all the time!” Grayson complains, when Drake protests it. He puts his hands on his hips, half-pouting. “If there’s something that you _ really _ need to do, print it out. Use paper like they did in the old days. I want this to be a family vacation. Not a work vacation. No Batman. No Robin- Red Robin- Nightwing.” 

There’s no need to say _ Red Hood _ because Todd isn’t coming along on their little vacation. He’s sticking behind in Gotham to make sure the city doesn’t catch on fire or something. Brown and Gordon are to be working with him, or so Damian’s heard. 

“No capes,” Grayson finishes. “Understood?” 

Damian reluctantly agrees to the no capes rule. It’s not like there will be anyone to fight or save while deep in the forest. 

While packing, Grayson goes through and eliminates any and everything tied to their hero work. Batarangs, costumes, smoke bombs and their utility belts. He leaves _ one _ tracker and com in each of their luggage, just in case. They’ll work no matter what conditions they’re thrust into, or so Father says. He designed them himself. Or something. Grayson allows Damian a short butterfly knife. That, though, is the extent. 

Pennyworth bids them farewell the morning of their departure. Damian’s got two suitcases- one full of clothes and basic necessities, and his other chock full of painting supplies- watercolors, acrylic, charcoal; he’s got canvases and an easel, along with two sketchbooks and a handful of pencils and pens. He’s ready for a summer full of meditation and retreat. A summer full of color and imagination and a fleeting sunset ring. 

He gets stuck in the back with _ Drake _ as they drive to the Pink Palace- a good _ seven hour drive _ that has Damian reeling. Grayson spends it trying to get everyone to humor him by playing car games. Damian totally does _ not _ end up playing out of curiosity, they’re simply good for memory and detective skills, thank you. He wins each one with efficiency that would make Mother bare a semblance of pride. 

Drake, for the most part, ignores everyone in the car by plugging in his headphones and resigns himself for staring out the window. Father grips at the steering wheel, no doubt thinking of all of the trouble that the crooks in Gotham are getting into. He’s attached to his city more than his children, and Mother always said that it’s an admirable trait. Damian supposes that it is. Batman’s always been prepared to give his life for Gotham. It’s all Damian’s ever really _ wanted_\- Being able to _ love _ something so much that he’s willing to die for it. 

He’s died for Grayson. He’s died for Gotham, for Maya and to make amends for his sins, for Mother. Do they count? Is he anything close to as great as Father truly is? 

The car slows. Damian’s pulled out of his thoughts. It’s for the best. 

They all get out of the car- Grayson and Drake after waking the latter up- and pull their bags out of the trunk. Father takes Damian’s before he can protest, gesturing for Grayson to grab Drake’s. 

“The two of you can go explore,” Father says, as Grayson starts up the stairs. There’s one of those moving vans pulling in, no doubt full of furniture they need for the summer. “Dick and I will help the movers with all of our stuff.” 

“You just don’t want us to choose our own rooms,” Drake utters, pulling out his earbuds. “I already said that I don’t care which one I get. I’ll help you guys out. Besides, it’s going to rain. See?” He points up at the clouds, hanging with an ominous grey.

Grayson lets out a laugh as he pulls open the door, gesturing for the family to go through. “Sure, sure. I don’t think it’s about the rooms, Tim,” he says, “it’s more about you getting to know the environment. You can help if you want, but I already know who’s getting each room. Damian, are you-?” 

As much as he wants to complain about the fact that his room needs to have a good view of _ something, _ Damian swallows his words down. He won’t really be much help- They’ve got over five grown men with the inclusion of Grayson and Father. That, and he’s sure that Grayson won’t let him down when it comes to setting up his room. As long as Damian has that view and a bed, he’ll be content. 

“I’ll go explore,” he replies, cutting Grayson off.

“It’s going to rain,” Drake says again.

“I’ll go _ explore._” 

“It’s_ going to rain._” 

“Take a raincoat,” Grayson pipes up, gently pushing Drake inside. There’s one in my bag- It’ll be a little big, but you’ll make it work, won’t you?” 

“Of course I will,” Damian nearly hisses. Grayson sets down his suitcase to unlock the car for him. Damian rushes over, barely listening to his older brother’s directions as he reaches over to the passenger seat. 

Grayson’s raincoat is a dull, musty, navy blue. It’s old, that’s for sure. He must’ve got it sometime when he was in his teens. While he still fits in it, there’s a rip in the seams down towards the bottom and a couple buttons are either loose or just completely gone. Damian shucks it on and the fabric shifts loudly. He’s never really liked raincoats- Gotham calls for them all too often and he’d never had to wear them before with Mother. Raincoats are a form of protection from the elements- an al Ghul doesn’t need such a thing unless it’s needed to blend in for some sort of mission.

Without a goodbye, Damian makes a bee-line for the trees. There’s no need to meet the neighbors, Grayson will force him to do that much later when they’re full moved into the house. Besides, Damian could hardly care less about their new neighbors. Crazy folks who lived without anything other than a car- no connection to the outside world. Did they even know superheroes existed? Did they know that the world almost ended? What did these people _ do _ all day? Certainly not leave their houses, that’s for sure. The garden in the back, as Damian can clearly see, is dead and overgrown. 

He scoffs and reaches for a random stick on the ground. It was shaped in a Y, so much like those dowsing rods. He recalls Grayson telling him about some sort of well, far off in the woods somewhere. Damian pulls the twig up with him and holds it out. Dowsing rods probably don’t even _ work, _ he thinks, as he steels himself. He sets off, hand-me-down converse slapping against the ground as he takes off. 

Randomly, he twists as he navigates the forest. Every so often he pauses to pull out his phone, snapping pictures of things to sketch and places to come back with his supplies. When there isn’t the looming threat of rain, he’ll even break out the watercolors. 

Eventually he comes across a small clearing covered in mud. There’s a small ring of mushrooms circling around _ something, _ and despite the stories that Grayson’s told him, Damian crouches down to brush some of it away. The mud is cold, but clears easy enough. It’s more like dirt- it doesn’t cling to his hand once Damian pulls his hand away, to reveal a small circular wooden well cover. There’s a little hole cut into the wood, which he peers down while trying to keep his weight off of the cover. All it is down there is completely _ dark. _ He reaches over blindly for a pebble and drops it down, pressing his ear down to the wood. 

He never hears it hit the ground. 

Damian rocks back onto his heels, and-

And then there’s the familiar roar of a bike and a war cry of some kind of teenager. Damian pulls up fast, cursing himself for not noticing the motorcycle and it’s rider up on the hill to his right. He holds the twig in his hand like it’ll save his life as the teenager- with some kind of skull-like helmet on his head- comes rushing down the hill in a flurry. His breath sweeps out of his lungs as he lunges back, narrowly avoiding being hit by the kid. 

Grayson said there wasn’t any need for capes or vigilantes here. Damian will be sure to let them know that he completely begs to differ. 

He drops low into a fighting stance as the motorcycle spins to a stop. The rider pulls of their helmet- a foolish move that Damian will be sure to make this man pay for- revealing dark eyes and a mess of brown curls. 

“I wouldn’t play around with that, if I were you,” the teenager says. He doesn’t look much older than Damian- possibly fourteen or fifteen. He slouches despite his obvious height, shoving his hands in his pocket as he sways. “Grandma always says that that well goes down so deep, you can see the stars down there, even in the middle of the day.” 

Damian picks himself up, not gathering any sense of threat coming from the boy before him. If he had to, Damian could drop him easily. “As if,” he scoffs. He grips the dowsing rod tighter in his hands. At least he found the stupid well. He’ll tell Grayson when he gets back. 

“You must be the new tenants, huh?” the boy remarks. “I’m Wybie.” 

“Wybie?” 

“Short for Why Born,” he grins. 

Damian suppresses his wince- His mother had called him _ Hafid _ and _ Ibn _ for a good while, but she’d never really been so explicitly rude with her names. The insults came in the form of words, of course, just not like _ that. _

“Damian,” he decides to say. “My name is Damian Wayne. I’m from the city. We’re staying for the summer.” 

Wybie cocks his head to the side. “Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? _ Rich _ folk?” 

“Yes, _ rich folk._” Damian tries not to roll his eyes, but whatever he was going to say next gets cut off by a woman’s cry of _ Why Born! _

“That’s for me,” Wybie says, as if Damian couldn’t figure it out himself. He swings onto his bike and reaches for his helmet, looking Damian over one last time. “Rich folk,” he says again, in a mutter. “That’d explain why you’re still holding on to that poison oak.” 

Damian drops the twig quickly, glancing down to his hand. It’s already starting to grow red. He grits his teeth- Father won’t like that at all. Drake will probably _ laugh _at him. Grayson, at least, won’t be so cruel. He looks back up, intent on at least scoffing out an insult to Wybie- 

Wybie's already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's stuck inside.

Damian lathers mud over his hand as he stands at the sink, raincoat hanging not to far away. He’s still got a good portion of the day to eat away at and he’s got nothing to do to pass the time. It started to rain, not long after he came back. Back to a full house and a missing car and a missing Grayson, back to Drake at the table and Father hidden away in his room, both slumped over stacks of papers and reports. Back to a lonely little house full of people that wanted nothing to do with him. 

He wants to go squirrel himself away in his room and draw, but Drake- (and Father, as confirmation)- told him that Grayson wanted to be home to see what Damian thought of it. 

So, to sum it up, Damian is _ bored. _

He twists back to look at Drake out of the corner of his eyes. Some kid once said to him something about _ negative attention is better than none _ and right now, Damian takes those words to heart and plops down beside Drake. He pulls one of the shreds of paper towards him- it’s casework for Batman. Of course. He’d at least thought it’d be for Wayne Enterprises- Drake doesn’t let the whole Red Robin gig swallow him whole 24/7. Father’s probably going over the same thing. Wouldn’t it be easier if the two simply worked _ together _on this? 

Drake snatches the papers out of his hands before Damian can voice his thought, so Damian just lets his face morph into a scowl. “Is this what you plan to do all summer long?” he sniffs. “Sit here at the kitchen table and-” 

“I don’t want to hear it, Damian,” Drake hisses out. “Go explore the house or something. Count all the doorknobs- Just leave me _ alone._”

“Count the _ doorknobs? _ Please, there’s thousands of other things to do than to-” 

Drake shoves a pad of paper and a pen into Damian’s hands, the force making Damian twist so his back faces Drake. “_Go._” 

“_Fine._” 

And then, as a saving grace, Grayson throws open the door, arms covered in plastic grocery bags. He’s holding something wrapped in newspaper in his left hand, his right holding onto the car keys. “I’m back!” he cheers. Damian discards his paper and pen, reaching out to take a handful of the groceries. Grayson notices the mud on his hands and fluidly swings his arms away and dumbs the groceries all over the table and Drake’s work. He plucks up the paper and pen and sets them on the counter, cringing at the dirt covering them too. “Wash your hands if you want to help me put this stuff away, Lil’ D.” 

Damian turns on the faucet and sticks his hand under the water in one fluid movement. The mud breaks away in pieces, before falling away completely. He adds soap and scrubs. 

Grayson holds his hand out. Damian sets his own in Grayson’s, half-scowling as Grayson takes to looking at his palms. “No wonder you had mud on it, Dami. What’d you touch?” 

“Poison oak,” he admits, trying to ignore the faint red buzz on his cheeks. Drake barks out a laugh and Damian rears his head to snap back, but Grayson sets the bundle of newspaper into his hands. 

“No fighting,” he chides easily. “I’ll head out again and grab you something for your hand tomorrow, okay? For now, try not to itch it.” 

“What’s this?” Damian asks, shaking it by his ear. It doesn’t cling or clang- what the hell did Grayson get him? 

“I found it on the porch,” Grayson explains. He pulls Damian to the table and sits him down before Damian really even realizes it, before pulling Drake up from his work. The two older siblings start to put away the groceries with minimal complaining from Drake. 

Damian looks the packaging over fully, only finding a signed _ To Damian, From Wybie_. He scowls upon seeing _ Wybie, _ though. They’ve known each other for exactly two hours and a half or so, and he’s already taken to leaving little gifts at Damian’s door? He tears away at the newspaper to find a note and an honest to god _ doll. _ His scowl grows deeper. The note reads out something about finding the doll in his grandmother’s attic. 

_ Look like anyone to you? _ he wrote. 

Yes, actually, it really _ does. _

The doll has Damian’s pitch black shock of hair, perfectly tousled to look like it’s gelled. It’s made out of some sort of yarn or string, though feels completely smooth. Evergreen button eyes are sown into the doll’s tanned skin- not a single shade paler or darker than Damian’s own skin or own eyes. It’s wearing a miniature version of Grayson’s blue coat- missing buttons and all, along with dull red converse, black skinny jeans, and t-shirt. All over it’s skin are little _ marks, _ right in the same places as all of Damian’s scars. When he peaks at the doll’s back, he nearly chokes when he sees a paler cloth making up the spot along it’s spine. 

It’s so _ realistic, _ it’s _ eerily. _ It _ scares him. _

No, not _ scares _ him. Just-

He’s concerned. 

“That’s cute,” Grayson notes, when he glances over Damian’s shoulders. Damian does his best to suppress the shivers that crawl to his hand. “It looks just like you. _ Exactly _like you-” His voice gains a concerned, skeptical tilt to it as he inspects the doll closer. “Who gave this to you, Damian?” 

“Wybie,” he replies. “I- The landlord’s grandson. He’s my age.” There’s no point in trying to say anything about age, children of all ages can be villains. 

Drake utters something about Damian talking about how he’s not a child. Damian ignores him as Grayson sighs and hands the doll back. “Why don’t you and Littler D go explore the house?” he offers. “It’s a little weird, but- I think you’ve got yourself a friend already.” 

Damian’s dismissed and sent away in the next minute. 

Well. 

Looks like it’s back to counting doorknobs. Damned _ Grayson, _ he thinks, as he grabs the pad and paper. Once he’s out of the kitchen and at three wobbly door knobs, he scratches his hand and resigns himself to his fate.

This is going to be the longest summer of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter!


End file.
